


Tooth and Claw

by manic_intent



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, That AU where Jesse meets Hanzo before the events of the game, dragon magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-31 21:40:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20801870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: Huh. Jesse hadn’t figured him for a cake man. Hanzo-no-surname-given had been a closemouthed and last-minute addition to Jesse’s last gig, a search-and-rescue job near Osaka that had gone unexpectedly shitfaced. Hanzo had taken over leadership of the gig when the leader had to be airlifted to hospital, and while Jesse didn’t often take kindly to direction or teams in general, with Hanzo he’d been willing to make an exception. There was something familiar about him that Jesse couldn’t quite place. It pricked his curiosity, enough that Jesse had quietly followed Hanzo after the gig had wrapped up.





	Tooth and Claw

**Author's Note:**

> For @indigolai, who asked for a quick, sweet McHanzo story. IDK if this was entirely sweet—but uh, there are desserts? 
> 
> Disclaimers: I’ve never played Overwatch, and it’s been a long time since I’ve had anything to do with the fandom. Since my TL has mostly also moved on to other games, tbh I’m not really familiar with the lore (? if any) now, so while I’ve tried to get up to speed by reading the wiki, sorry if anything is wrong haha. I do love Hanzo’s casual look.
> 
> Takes place before Winston decides to put out the call, but years after all that business with Blackwatch and Overwatch imploding.

Daimaru’s basement was thick with people at this hour, clustered around stalls hawking anything from beautifully wrapped cheese biscuits to delicate globes of chocolate to deep-fried pork medallions. Normally, this kinda largesse would’ve been hell on Jesse’s time and wallet, but today he was hunting. He lurked behind a tower of bright yellow boxes shaped like chicks and watched his quarry idle by a glass display of tiny cakes, while the omnic shopkeeper hovered hopefully by. 

Huh. Jesse hadn’t figured him for a cake man. Hanzo-no-surname-given had been a closemouthed and last-minute addition to Jesse’s last gig, a search-and-rescue job near Osaka that had gone unexpectedly shitfaced. Hanzo had taken over leadership of the gig when the leader had to be airlifted to hospital, and while Jesse didn’t often take kindly to direction or teams in general, with Hanzo he’d been willing to make an exception. There was something familiar about him that Jesse couldn’t quite place. It pricked his curiosity, enough that Jesse had quietly followed Hanzo after the gig had wrapped up.

Jesse peeked back out behind his chick boxes. Hanzo was gone and the omnic cakeshop owner was preoccupied with someone else. Jesse scanned the area, trying to see where Hanzo might have disappeared off to, and nearly flinched into the biscuit display as a voice behind him said, “McCree-san.” 

“Hanzo!” Jesse spun around. “Jesus. You nearly gave me a heart attack.” 

Hanzo folded his arms, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He was a handsome man with a neat beard that sketched his strong jaw up to his silver-flecked hair, tied into a small tail at his skull. Out of deference for the winter’s chill, he was dressed in a black jacket and blue trousers tucked into grey boots. It was a far cry from the robe-and-gauntlet getup from the gig, which bared half of Hanzo’s chest to show off a complex dragon tatt over his left shoulder and arm. 

“Why are you following me?” Hanzo asked. “Don’t deny it. I’ve been watching you for half an hour.” 

“Ah, I figured you weren’t really into cake,” Jesse said. Hanzo stiffened, his lip twisting. “Or are you? I mean, hell, I ain’t judgin’? By the way, how’s it that everythin’ in here’s wrapped up _and_ packed away into fancy little boxes? Ain’t we all been through a waste and recyclin' crisis?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Hanzo said. His fingers tightened over his elbows. Hanzo didn’t look visibly armed—that huge-ass bow of his was nowhere to be seen—but in this day and age, Jesse didn’t let that kinda thing fool him. 

“Call it a personal curiosity.” Jesse wasn’t much for making up tall stories, especially when put on the spot.

“Oh?” 

“Handsome guy like you with your fancy bow and fancier footwork—what about you ain’t interestin’?” Jesse flashed a bright smile. 

Hanzo stared at him for so long that the omnic owner of the biscuit store sidled tentatively closer, perhaps hoping to chivvy them out of the vicinity before violence broke out all over his cute farm-themed packaging. “Can I help you?” asked the omnic. 

Shaking his head, Hanzo said something in Japanese that had the omnic retreat quickly back behind their counter. “What do you want?” Hanzo asked Jesse, lowering his voice. 

Oh hell, why not. “Dinner? Maybe dessert after?” Jesse winked. 

Hanzo’s cold stare crinkled into faint amusement. “You are being annoyingly persistent. Dinner. I’ll pick. You pay.”

#

“Y’know,” Jesse said, as arrangements of tiny finger foods were tastefully placed on the table between them on bits of slate and wood, “I was kinda expectin’ a bar.”

Hanzo tilted his head, his amusement betrayed by the gleam in his eyes. “How pedestrian.” 

“This place ain’t even Japanese. It’s French.” 

“French food is better in Tokyo.” 

“That can’t be true.” 

Hanzo sniffed. “Tokyo has retained more Michelin stars than Paris for a very long time. It is unsurprising.” Hanzo picked up a weird red cracker with some cream on it and popped it delicately into his mouth. “After all, the modern concept of a degustation is in itself inspired by kaiseki.” 

“This is the fanciest place I’ve ever been to that I ain’t plannin’ on robbin’,” Jesse confessed. The red cracker was smoky and a little sweet, whatever it was. The tiny porcelain spoonful of little translucent orange pearls was… nice. They burst on his tongue, tangy and spicy at the same time. 

“Day’s still young,” Hanzo said. He ate the little pearls, frowned, and spoke quietly to the staff as the next course was served—or not served. They nodded and withdrew.

Jesse stared at the little stone oven pot thing on the table with fascination as the warm smell started to permeate their pocket of the dining room. “Bread baked at the table, seriously? That thing can’t have much in it. How long’s it gonna take? Are we gonna be here for hours?” It did, admittedly, smell incredible. 

“Patience,” Hanzo said, amused again. 

“I’m revisin’ everythin’ I assumed about you.” 

“Oh?” 

“Most of the freelance mercs who do gigs like the Nakayama thing, we’re all ex-military or hardscrabble folk who did our growin’ up in gangs. Thought you were somethin’ like that. You don’t strike me as military though, I know military people. Now this. You’re used to fancy places like this.” 

Hanzo looked Jesse over, his long fingers tapping lightly on the tablecloth. “You are incredibly American,” Hanzo said. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Your assumptions about the world, about Japanese people, about life. It’s very linear. People are never one thing or another. You are, however, a little right. Wealth and its trappings are a familiar curse, one which I was schooled to reject when I was young.” 

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with fancy things, if you can afford it,” Jesse said, trying to parse the strange edge to Hanzo’s voice. “World’s been goin’ to hell for a while, even before the Omnic Crisis. Got nothin’ against people tryin’ to live a little.” 

Jesse paused as the wine was brought to the table, something that Hanzo had picked. Jesse wouldn’t know a good year from a bad one—it all tasted more or less the same to him. He couldn’t even tell the difference between reconstituted or traditional alcohol. The slow death of the old world’s wasteful agricultural systems had gone largely unmourned by Jesse. He was just as happy eating something lab-grown or printed as he was eating something that’d grown up farting in a paddock.

Hanzo hadn’t struck him as someone who would care. He’d been cold and efficient on the gig, all business, no friendly chatter. Even now, Hanzo watched Jesse across the table with the same efficient calculation, compartmentalising Jesse for his own amusement. Jesse wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “I knew people who would've disagreed,” Hanzo said, glancing away at the other patrons in the restaurant. 

“Same.” Jesse couldn’t imagine someone like Reyes or Morrison in a place like this. Hell, probably not anyone he’d known in Blackwatch. “Though it ain’t like I go to places like this often. Situation’s kinda different.” Jesse grinned at Hanzo, leaning forward over the table. “I don’t mind takin’ someone like you to a place like this on a date.” 

Hanzo chuckled. “Is that what this is?” 

“We’re the two hottest guys in this place, sittin’ together, havin’ fancy wine and fancy nibbles. What _is_ it if it ain’t a date?” Jesse asked, ginning up an innocent wide-eyed look. 

Hanzo shook his head but made no answer, gracefully changing the subject. They talked shop through the long dinner, which despite himself Jesse was starting to enjoy. It wasn’t just the company. Pretentious as the food was, Jesse had always been a fan of theatre, and the restaurant had that in spades. Sea urchin served in an antigrav cradle? 3D-printed crystal lattice balls that turned into gazpacho on your tongue? Bring it on. Jesse probably wasn’t going to be full at the end, but that didn’t feel like it mattered. 

Then there was dessert. Or, more precisely, a dessert _cart_. Jesse stared, round-eyed, as the damn thing was wheeled out to their table. Tiers of little tarts and small cakes and biscuits, shot glasses of creams and spheres of chocolate, tiny towers of pastry and soft pillows of mochi. “Fuck. Me,” Jesse said, ignoring how both Hanzo and the maitre’d winced. 

“You may have as much as you like,” Hanzo said and hesitated as Jesse lit up. “But you can’t ask the restaurant to leave the cart.” 

“You sure are good at teasin’ a man,” Jesse said, grinning mischievously as Hanzo coughed and looked away. That was promising.

#

“I’m surprised you can still walk,” Hanzo said, as Jesse scanned them into his AirBnB. “Given how much you ate.”

“That? That was nothin’. Could probably fit more if I had to.” Jesse was pleasantly tipsy, which always made him handsy. He pulled Hanzo up against him. Hanzo tensed when touched, but allowed himself to be drawn close, looking up steadily at Jesse as Jesse looped an arm around the small of his back. Jesse had the benefit of height on Hanzo this close, but nothing about the impression of compressed power that he got off Hanzo indicated that this was an advantage in any way. Hanzo’s bow-callused fingers tickled over Jesse’s jaw, skating up his cheek to his hat. 

“Your outfit is ridiculous,” Hanzo said, tracing the brim of Jesse’s hat and eyeing his red poncho and body armour. “I half-expected us to be kicked out of the restaurant.” 

“Like you’re wearin’ anythin’ fancy.” Jesse planted a pointed kiss over Hanzo’s left shoulder. “You’re one to complain. You spent all of our gig half-naked.” He leered. 

“Don’t be insulting,” Hanzo said, though his mouth quirked up at a corner. “It’s an outfit borne out of necessity.” 

“Hell, I wasn’t complainin’. What necessity?” 

“For a card up my sleeve, one that wasn’t required in the end.” Hanzo tugged down Jesse’s chin before Jesse could ask, kissing him hard on the mouth. The hat got knocked off on the way to the bedroom as they fumbled off boots and belts and clothes. 

Jesse whistled appreciatively as Hanzo pulled off his shirt to bare the tatt, and grinned as Hanzo sniffed. “Aww, don’t be like that. It’s gorgeous. I’ve been dyin’ to touch it.” 

“Go ahead,” Hanzo said, as he pulled Jesse down on top of him onto the bed. 

Jesse wasn’t in a hurry. He kissed Hanzo on the mouth, licking lazily into him as they pulled off the rest of their kit, ignoring the pointed nips and the fingers curling over the back of his throat. He let up as Hanzo squeezed, planting a playfully sloppy kiss on Hanzo’s cheek that had Hanzo snort, then nipping along Hanzo’s shoulder to the first coil of scales over Hanzo’s skin. Hanzo had done a great job of preserving the tattoo. It didn’t look new, but the ink hadn’t faded. The intricate detail impressed over Hanzo’s skin was a work of art, and Jesse said so. 

“Touch it then,” Hanzo said. He wore a tight, hungry smile. Jesse’s instincts told him there was something off here, something he should be paying attention to. He shunted it aside. Hanzo’s cock stirred against Jesse’s hip, a fine handful of a beast. Distracted, Jesse gripped it lightly with his non-mechanical hand, only for Hanzo to cluck his tongue. “Jesse.” 

“You got a thing for people and your tatt or what?” Jesse said, amused. Hell, it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing someone wanted him to do in bed by a long shot. When Hanzo said nothing, Jesse obligingly bent, pressing a teasing kiss just before the arch of one of the coils. Hanzo huffed, his fingers tickling up into Jesse’s hair and tightening in warning. “Fine, fine,” Jesse told him, and ran his tongue over the inked scales up Hanzo’s biceps.

He yelped as the air above Hanzo’s skin shimmered. Blue fire arced up over the scales in a restless heave. Jesse tried to jerk back but Hanzo clenched his hands into a fist in his hair, holding him still. He shut his eyes tightly, scrabbling against Hanzo and the bed in a panic. Something pebbled and hot scraped against his throat, ridges bumping against his jaw. He wasn’t being burned. Jesse opened his eyes for a peek and gasped. The space above Hanzo’s tattoos seethed with scaly coils.

“What. The. _Fuck_,” Jesse breathed. Hanzo chuckled. The tattoo on his skin was shifting with the fire, or whatever it was. It didn’t look like a hologram. A four-toed talon curled over Jesse’s wrist, a tusk pressed against his belly. Hanzo hauled Jesse over, kissing him roughly enough to bruise as the dragons coiled against them both. Claws raked lightly down Jesse’s ribs, scales sweeping up between his thighs, scraping playfully against his balls. Hot as candlewax. It should’ve been a turn-off, but lust pulsed through Jesse instead, clawing through his nerves and making him harder than he’d ever been. Jesse whimpered, rubbing himself against Hanzo’s hip. “The hell is that?” Jesse asked. 

Hanzo didn’t answer. He rolled them over, pinning Jesse to the bed and holding him down with a hand curled lightly around Jesse’s throat. Hanzo kissed Jesse as he closed his spare hand over Jesse’s cock, stroking teasingly as talons traced circles over Jesse’s belly, squeezing until Jesse moaned urgently and bucked into his grip. “Supplies?” Hanzo asked as he stroked his thumb over Jesse’s pucker. 

Oh, hell yes. “Condom in my wallet, uh. Medi-gel on the side table.” Jesse hooked up his pants as Hanzo leaned over to inspect the side table with a frown. 

“Do I want to know why you have military-grade medical supplies so close on hand?” Hanzo asked as he picked up the tube. 

“I got a lot of enemies, darlin’,” Jesse said. “You do too, I’m guessin’.” 

Hanzo shifted up, settling on Jesse’s belly. “What makes you think so?” 

“Whatever you’re doin’ with that dragon-light-fire thing, I’m thinkin’ it ain’t just for show.” Jesse gestured at the coils looping out over Hanzo’s arm and belly, snaking down to slither over Jesse’s thighs. He shivered. 

“No,” Hanzo agreed, amused. 

“I seen somethin’ like it once,” Jesse said, “but it wasn’t used like this.” Genji from Blackwatch had also had dragon magic, though he didn’t use it save as a last resort, and hated having to discuss it. Maybe it was a Japanese military tech thing. 

“I very much doubt that you've seen something like this before,” Hanzo said, and pushed a gel-slicked finger into Jesse before he could disagree. 

Jesse clutched at Hanzo’s shoulders with a hiss and threw back his head, spreading his thighs eagerly. He didn’t often bed people this confident, or this sexy. Hanzo kissed him as he worked Jesse open, eating up his lust, breathing out hunger. Draconic hunger. It burned Jesse where it touched, branding him down to his bones, clawing out a raw and visceral need from him that Jesse didn’t know that he was capable of. Jesse whined as he screwed himself down on Hanzo’s fingers, scratching welts down Hanzo’s shoulders as he laughed. As Hanzo finally deemed Jesse ready and started to pull the condom over his cock, Jesse eagerly twisted around onto his belly, his prosthetic fingers tearing the sheets. 

Hanzo eased in with a low hiss, fingers tightening over the back of Jesse’s neck. Jesse moaned, twisting in Hanzo’s too-hot grip. Fire scoured out of Hanzo’s skin and down his arm, looping into an overlay of scales and talons. Hanzo and the dragons held Jesse down, snarled and hissed and breathed an impossible heat into the air as they marked his shoulders with bites, rumbling in a sound that shook the bed beneath him as Jesse’s body opened up for them. The Medi-gel eased the pain, or his erection would’ve wilted. Hanzo was _big_. Jesse whimpered and shook as Hanzo pushed deeper and deeper, too hot, too much. Still, he angled up his hips, begging for more, trying to take Hanzo deeper. Hanzo laughed. He bit Jesse hard over the ridge of his spine, just beneath the nape of his neck. Jesse yelled, jerking in Hanzo’s grip as Hanzo bottomed out. His cock dripped onto the sheets as Hanzo’s heavy balls pressed firmly against his. 

“Oh, fuckin’ hell,” Jesse gasped, hands clenched on the sheets. Hanzo murmured something in Japanese, kissing the mark he’d made on Jesse’s skin. As Jesse’s body eased up, Hanzo rocked into him with reluctant thrusts, as though wanting to stay as deeply buried inside Jesse as he could. He growled as Jesse clenched down eagerly around him, shifting until his cock pressed firmly against the spot that made Jesse jerk and yelp with pleasure. 

“Hanzo—Gods, Hanzo.” Jesse’s groans grew incoherent as he tried to buck against Hanzo, squirming in his grip. “Harder, c’mon. Give it to me.” 

“You’ll take what you’re given,” whispered the dragons into Jesse’s ear, “and be _grateful_.” They laughed as he whined and scrabbled against the bed, laughed as their greed scoured his skin, as they coiled between his thighs, over his nipples, against the soles of his feet. Jesse fought to breathe, his tongue thick in his throat as he tried to beg. The only mercy Hanzo chose to show him was to kiss him on the cheek with mocking tenderness. A talon pressed lightly into the slit of his cock and Jesse yelled as lust and pain both shocked him over the edge. Hanzo let out a surprised sound as Jesse pumped his hips into the bed, spilling as he squeezed down tight over Hanzo’s cock. 

“So that’s what you like,” Hanzo said, his lips grazing Jesse’s ear. He chuckled and thrust up into Jesse’s body as Jesse groaned. “Now, give me more.”

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: @manic_intent  
my writing and prompt policy: manic-intent.tumblr.com  
\--  
The restaurant is based off Narisawa in Tokyo. They really do bake the bread course for you at the table, and their dessert cart is amazing. Also, I love the food options in the basement sections of Asian malls.


End file.
